


Hollowgrams

by AnansiAnansi



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 7DaysofClexa, And someone who really really deserves it is going to get their comeuppance, Bear with me though this is pretty experimental, Can you tell?, Canon Compliant, Clexa endgame? Clexa endgame, Clextober20, Day 5: Creatures of the Night, Day 6: Trick or Treat, Day 7: Free Day, Day4:That Shit is Haunted, Drug use for the first part, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fix It Fic, Hell yes shout it from the rooftops please, Libations for Everybody!, Pardon my potty mouth but I have a few teeny tiny baby little feelings about this, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series Finale, Season 7 finale fix it, This is my great big fuck this shit to The 100 finale and its treatment, and we’re all going to get it, kind of, of Clarke and Lexa in general, they always deserved better goddammit and so did we
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:47:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27058219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnansiAnansi/pseuds/AnansiAnansi
Summary: Okay, so this story needs a better summary. Basically, it’s set post-finale, and uses the four of the seven Clextober20 prompts from Tumblr as the introductory chapters.Clarke is on Earth; Lexa comes back. Not some half-assed JudgeLexa/GodLexa/NotLexa version, but like LexaLexa. Lots of other stuff happens, but most importantly, Clexa endgame.P.S. This story is going to morph into something totally unexpected, I promise you that. Batshit Catharsis, that's what this is. Did I mention Clexa endgame?
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 84
Kudos: 76





	1. That shit is haunted

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all:
> 
> So bear with me on this, please. I fully intended to write this as a seven-part story using the Tumblr Clextober prompts, but I am so stupidly busy with work, I've had to rethink my entire plan.
> 
> So, I'm literally writing this story backwards. Here's how it's going to go: Days 4, 5 and 6 are clues about what the story is about, and are scenes that will tie in to the overall narrative, Day 7 is going to be the prologue, and well, after that is when the story really begins. Make sense? Not to me either, but I can tell you it's going to be another wild ride, or keeping with the theme for this year, my trademark Batshit Catharsis storytelling. 
> 
> What can I say, I just can't seem to follow the rules (I'm sure those of you know from our Tumblr chats what my day job is will appreciate the irony of this as much as I do). 
> 
> Welcome to my parlour, folks. (Yes, that's an ode to my pseudonym. :)).

At this time of the day, the forest took on a light of its own. Diverging from the gloom of twilight that filtered through everywhere and everything else, the clearing Clarke emerged into was just the opposite; here there were cotton ball flashes of sky visible through the darkening leaves, the contrast with blackening tree trunks so sharp, they were figures watching her, their backs stiff with judgment and silence. Once she felt her eyes adjust to the strange halflight, Clarke turned her gaze downwards to the forest floor. She moved quickly, her eyes surveying the ground beneath her feet with ease; she had done this countless times by now, and the end result was always so worth it, but there was something about this place at this time of the day; if she was being honest with herself, it gave her the creeps.

Spotting a flash underneath a fallen tree, Clarke pulled out a small pair of scissors from her back pocket, examining them for a moment; they were only a few spots of rust here and there, but the blade was sharp; she would have Jackson take a look at them later; for now, they would do just fine. All the same, she reached down with care, hooking the thumb and forefinger of her right hand in one of the semi-rounded handles, and the remaining through the second, oblong one; she knew enough from her medical textbooks that the risk of tetanus, or lockjaw as her mother had morbidly liked to refer to it, had made the old humans so cautious, they’d even developed a vaccine against it. It was a lesson Clarke was not going to forget, even for something as trivial as this.

Pausing above the mushroom she was about to pick, Clarke admired the rich variety of colours on its head; it shimmered, alternating in metallic pink and purple, streaked in between with silver as the evening’s dying light hit it at just the right angle. She snipped the stem as gently as she could, close to where it rose from the ground; it oozed psychedelic juice onto the earth around it; this was a good one, Clarke thought as she moved onto the next mushroom, repeating her action; by the time she was done with the patch, all that remained as evidence of the little nesting fungus colony was a puddle of shiny neons and golds, a riot and murder splayed onto the earth. Clarke turned towards the village; these would be enough for Niylah to brew her special concoction, and judging by the colours, it would be especially potent. 

She thought of the last time, only a few days ago; she had managed to escape to the beach by herself with a generous pour, and by the time she was done, had been enveloped by the pleasant delirium that brought with it a special kind of nostalgia; that time, she had hallucinated Abby sitting beside her, and they’d traced all the same constellations they would have seen from the Ark, until Raven and Murphy had found her and put her to bed; she’d had to bid goodbye to her ghostly mother, but the pain had been dulled by the mushrooms. Maybe this time, if she drank herself a little nearer oblivion, a little closer to the past, maybe she would be lucky enough to hallucinate _her_. Clarke’s heart raced with the anticipation of the simple possibility alone; she couldn’t even comprehend that illusion actually coming to life.

A sharp crack startled Clarke out of her thoughts; she jumped. Turning her head towards the noise, she froze. It couldn’t be; of course it wasn’t. In the distance, she saw a movement; its familiarity pierced clean through her. She squinted, raising a hand to her forehead to calm herself. She was being ridiculous; of course she had imagined the figure; the black coat was obviously just a tree trunk, the appearance of a dark red cloak just fall leaves flying in the wind, and the braids, just branches. Clarke held a hand to her heart; it was impossible; she was conjuring her deepest desire into reality; there was no one there, least of all the woman she dreamt of almost every night even now; the same one who had her heart for eternity.

Shoving aside the swell of disappointment and longing inside her, Clarke began her way down the narrow path, back to the village, back to the living. All the same, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something...or someone, was watching. She pulled her jacket closer to counter the shiver running through her. “That shit is haunted,” She muttered under her breath.


	2. Creatures of the night (and light)

February 16, 2150

There wasn’t much time to do this, and even less of an opportunity without anyone else around. Aden stood silent, watching as almost all the other  _ natblidas _ filed out of the room after Lexa’s purification ritual. When there were just the last four of them remaining, he sprang into action, beckoning the other three to him with a forefinger. “Quickly, we must hurry.” Carefully, he blew out the candles and placed them almost exactly below where each one had been around Lexa’s body; it would be easier to replicate their positions later this way. Together, all four Nightbloods gently lifted the stretcher with Lexa’s lifeless form, sheet and all, and moved stealthily towards the back of the large room. As they reached the back wall, Aden reached behind the heavy velvet drape on the right, feeling with the tips of his fingers until he had reached the correct stone, the one with the slight dip in the middle, enough to fit a fingerprint. He slotted his own into it, pushing hard.

With a slight groan, the section of the wall beside the window swung open inward; in the light of the torches of the room, Aden could make out a set of stone steps leading down. Turning his head towards the others, he motioned for them to be quiet; Clarke and the others were preoccupied, probably with trying to stop Ontari, but there was no telling when they would be back. Making sure his hold on the stretcher was firm, Aden, led the others into the darkness, into the tunnels. 

None of them had ever been down here before, but it didn’t matter; there was only one narrow, winding path to follow, and as he knew, only one destination, and only one way to finish his tasked mission. The only sounds were the soft pattering of the Nightbloods’ feet against the cold stone floors, accompanied by the occasional screech and scuttling of rats; if any of his fellow  _ natblidas _ were squeamish, they didn’t show it. They too, were focused on their sole goal. 

Almost as suddenly as they had entered it, the darkness faded into the sheer brightness of yellow light; Aden shut his eyes, trying to shake away the blinding flash before him; but there was no time for such small discomforts; he forced them open again. When he did, he was no longer sure what was real; from the looks on the other Nightbloods’ faces, neither were they.

Before them stood four magnificent Beings clad entirely in robes spun of reddish gold, their resplendence undiminished by the brightness of the light in the room. He searched for their faces, but found none; they were wearing hoods of the same spun material. The one closest to him motioned for them to set Lexa down before them; Aden felt the intensely warm luminosity rising from them for the split second he was in their vicinity. He backed away, at once startled and awed; such a feeling of peace could be addictive. He watched as the Beings bent down to the ground in unison, picking Lexa up as though she were weightless; in the presence of transcendence, maybe she was. With a quick nod to the Nightbloods accompanied by a flash, they were gone, taking Lexa with them. Aden looked around, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding; the room was back to its true form; a stark dungeon, bereft of any warmth. He stared at the stretcher, at the doll vaguely resembling Lexa left behind by the Beings. Suddenly resolute once more, he nodded at the others; their work wasn’t quite finished; now to replicate Lexa’s form for the remaining part of the farewell ritual. Once more, quiet as they came, the Nightbloods found their way through the tunnels, this time back to the surface they had descended from.

******

The Chamber of Transcendence was bustling with activity; red-gold streaks traced paths in the air as Beings apparated from one spot to another, rearranging the structure of the room itself; a force emanating from the hand of one slowly forced the domed roof to petal up and open, until it let in the darkness of space itself until, at the centre of the view was a massive, effervescent dying star. Directly below it, another Being had conjured up a marble pedestal, complete with bedding of softest eiderdown. Their work complete, the Beings lined up next to one another, turning their heads towards the silent figure in the corner who finally stopped the incessant tapping of his fingers as he approached the pedestal for inspection. Gliding around the pedestal, The Producer poked at the bed, then gazed up above at the star; satisfied that the two were in perfect alignment, he stepped back; there was nothing to do now but wait.

A flare in the corner alerted him to the entrance of his long awaited guest; when the four travelling Beings had teleported completely with their precious cargo, each and every one of their particles ordered correctly, they made their way to the pedestal; resting Lexa on it gently, they hurried to join the rest of their comrades, even as The Producer took his place next to her lifeless form. Reaching out, he touched the side of her neck; there was still some warmth, but it was fading; he needed to act fast. Raising his hands above his head, he turned his face towards the black outerworld above; feet on the ground, he focused on directing his thoughts upwards, willing the supernova to channel the remnants of its energy into the form before him. He felt himself grow hot, hotter than even the sustained heightened temperatures normal for Beings; he felt a trickle of sweat run down the side of his face; that happened in a few millennia at least; he felt lightheaded now; maybe this wasn’t going to work; maybe there had been...dare he say it, a mistake in their calculations; after all, even the Beings’ celebrated scientists hadn’t pulled something like this off before; this was the first time their kind was attempting to initiate a non-alive person into transcendence; clenching his jaw even tighter, scrunching his eyes shut, The Producer felt himself shaking; for the betterment of the Beings, this was all worth it. Just as he thought he couldn’t take anymore, he felt it; a primal shift in the atmosphere, a cosmic quake shattering the complacency of the Chamber of Transcendence. Then, a lightning beam crackled down, crashing straight onto Lexa’s chest with such a force that she was lifted a few feet into the air before falling back down onto the bed; as he watched, the supernova the beam was coursing into Lexa from gradually lost its life, the colours going from brilliance to brittle in a matter of moments until suddenly, it shut off altogether, as if...dead.

The Producer stood rooted to his spot, stunned. Then, he saw the pinkie on Lexa’s right hand twitch slightly; doing a double take, he moved closer. Had that really worked? Was he imagining things? But there it was again, another slight tremble, spreading throughout her hand, until it was a wave across all her fingers, spreading up her forearm. As he watched the starcurrent flow through every inch of Lexa’s body, The Producer could only shake his head in amazement. With a victorious smile, he whispered, “She’s alive.” Turning to the other Beings, he said it again, this time with any feelings he could muster at all. “She’s alive!” 

The greatest Grounder Commander to have died, lived once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, they never did bother to properly explain what happened to Lexa's body (just that implied burning, red smoke crap). Don't mind me, just capitalizing on plot holes where I can find them.
> 
> Also, thanks for your lovely comments, folks! :) 
> 
> P.S. Trivia Round 1: Ten points if you can guess the classic horror movie reference in here. :)


	3. Trick or Treat

“So what is it that you did today?” Indra paused as Niylah set the plates down before them, nodding her thanks. “You went around the village knocking on doors for what now?” 

Madi was already digging into her plate of root vegetables and bulgur. She swallowed half her mouthful, then spoke. “Well, it was part of this Old Human tradition; apparently adults and children would dress up in something called “costumes”, and were rewarded for their efforts in different ways...far as we can tell, for the young ones it was by exchanging sweets and candies.” Madi paused, “So me and some of the others decided to try it out with the kids this year.” She reached for her satchel behind her; opening it, she deposited a little pile of paper-wrapped caramel and fruit-flavoured sweets on the table, along with some candied apples, a couple of small cakes, a bag of something resembling sweet chilli peppers, and an underripe banana. “That’s my haul. You should see Hannah’s; it must have weighed as much as she did. Someone gave her a whole pumpkin.” 

Indra chuckled; Clarke’s determination to have New Earth relearn the ways of the Old Humans was certainly playing out in unexpected, and unintentionally hilarious ways. She shook her head; but she would take the insignificant fallacies of peace over the murderous errors of war any day. And in the end, it had come down to each one of them doing their part, but as usual, the final mantle had rested on Clarke’s tireless shoulders. “Guess we should thank Clarke for giving us another silly tradition to look forward to. Where is she, anyway?”

“At the council meeting finishing up preparations for the Festival of the Departed. She should be here any minute now.”

As if on cue, the tavern’s door swung open, and Clarke walked in, followed closely by Murphy and Raven. Clarke waved at her and smiled as she took the stool closest to her. “So the harvest this year has been good enough to help us begin processing and stockpiling the grain. Thanks to you, Ray, our flour mills can work three times as fast; another couple of years of this and we can already turn away from being exclusively agrarian.” 

Raven nodded, crossing her fingers.”Let’s hope Miller and Jackson can come up with the right chemistry to keep those radioactive critters at bay.” She took a long swig of the beer Niylah had put before her, downing almost all of it. “Man, I’m exhausted. You’ve got us working around the clock, Clarke.” She stifled a yawn. “Actually, I think I’m done for the night. I’ll see you all tomorrow.” She tossed down a few hand beaten coins on the bar. The automated currency press was next in her line of inventions to oversee. Life in New Earth was tiring, but never dull, she would give it that. 

Murphy waved his hand at her, slipping off his own stool. “I’ll walk out with you.”

Clarke raised her eyebrows in surprise. “What? No way! Since when are you both such party poopers?”

Murphy snorted, “Since a very pregnant Emori has threatened me with Sanctum-level torture if I leave her alone more than absolutely necessary.” Flicking his hand in a half-wave, he followed Raven out. “And hey, can’t have all the fun in Year One post-FA.”

Clarke shook her head, wryly. The Final Apocalypse was one of their ways of referring to the happenings almost exactly a year ago that had altered the course of their existence for eternity. She turned her head at the sound of Madi’s stool scraping beside her. “Hey! Where are you off to? I haven’t heard about how Trick or Treating went!”

Madi gave her a quick hug. “Sorry, Clarke, I’ll tell you all about it, I promise. But I’ve got to go now; we’re having something called a “hoedown” in the cornfield. It’s another Old Human tradition that Sahil found out in the database.” By the time she finished describing it, Clarke and Indra were both smirking. “Oh, we had plenty of other names for such a thing, but the general idea was the same.” Indra gathered her things. “I’m heading in the same direction, Madi, I’ll walk you over.” 

“Bye, Clarke, I’ll be home on time, I promise!” Madi’s excited voice floated out behind her retreating form.

“Go easy on the pumpkin mead! And no visiting the forest at night!” Clarke managed to call out, hoping Madi had heard her. She looked around as Niylah came up to her. “Looks like it’s just us, huh?” She shrugged. “Pity, I was looking forward to learning about what Old Human adults did at these ‘Halloween parties.’”

Niylah nodded, her eyes hooded as she put down a small glass filled to the brim with silvery magenta liquid in front of Clarke. “Well, there’s no reason we can’t find out for ourselves.” Clarke watched her as she picked up the glass; Niylah’s eyes were wandering over her cleavage, and today was one of the days she wasn’t up for anything. “This from the mushrooms I picked yesterday?”

Niylah nodded, raising her own glass for a toast. “As you requested, a newer, more potent concoction. The Old Humans certainly knew how to _tek_ properly. Trick or treat?” She raised her glass at Clarke, who clinked it with her own. “Treat.” Clarke downed her shot in one gulp. “Whoa, that’s intense.” She wiped her mouth with her sleeve. “Treat. Definitely treat.”

Before she knew what was happening, Niylah had grabbed her by the lapels of her jacket and yanked her halfway over the counter. “I was hoping you would say that.” She brought their lips together in a harsh kiss, running her tongue over Clarke’s lips, trying to gain entry into her mouth. Clarke relaxed into the kiss for a few seconds, before breaking it off abruptly. Putting a hand on Niylah’s shoulder, she gently pushed her backwards. “Niylah, I...can’t. Not tonight.” 

Niylah sighed, pulling away. She ran a hand through her hair, folding her arms before her. “Just how long are you going to keep holding on?” When Clarke didn’t respond, she continued. “She’s _gone,_ Clarke. She’s _been_ gone, for nearly a century and a half.”

Clarke nodded, trying to process the words coming out of Niylah’s mouth. When she looked back at her, she saw the edges around Niylah’s head were already getting a little fuzzy. “I know. You’re right. I just, I need to say goodbye.”

“Closure.” Niylah’s voice was resigned. “Look, I get it, Clarke, just like I did the first time. Your heart belongs to Lexa.” She busied herself with picking up their glasses. “But I’m the one who’s here. And after everything we’ve been through...don’t you think life should be about more than just surviving?”

Clarke winced at those words, the same ones she had uttered literally lifetimes ago; Niylah was right. “One last time, okay? Otherwise...” She swallowed the sudden painful lump in her throat; she could barely get the words out past it. “....I’ll forget about it.” _About her_ , she had tried to say, but even she couldn't tell such a huge lie. Niylah nodded, turning away to clean up, as Clarke slipped off her stool. She had to hold a hand out to steady herself at the sudden lightheadedness overcoming her. “Okay, wow, this is strong. I’m out, Niylah.” 

Niylah looked at her in concern. “You going to be okay? I can drop you home.”

Clarke shook her head, walking out. “No, no, I’m fine, I’m fine.” With a last small smile, she made her way towards Madi and her wooden cabin at the edge of the woods, revelling in the sudden warmth overcoming her.

By the time she had stumbled her way through the darkness, she was full out tripping; the entire universe had taken on hues made entirely of purple and pink, and she was among the stars, shooting past her in streaks of silver and gold. She closed her eyes, inhaling the clean, night air deeply; it seeped in through her nose, infiltrating each alveoli and blending so perfectly with her, until she didn’t know whether she was drinking or breathing light or sound or oxygen, or all three at once. This dizzying sense of anticipation, of hope, of something, anything was more than she had felt in _lifetimes._ Whatever this feeling was, it was welling up inside of her and rising to the surface, and at the same time as she opened her eyes, she felt it freeze in her throat. It had worked; after months of trying, she was looking into the one pair of eyes seared into her soul; and just like the first time she had looked into them, she lost her words, but instead, burst into a fit of high-pitched giggles. She whooped with joy, pumping the air with her fists, tears of mirth and relief running down her cheeks. It took her a moment to realize that the spectre in front of her was looking at her with the most serious expression, but it didn’t matter; this was her hallucination, she could have it go any way she wanted.

“Lexa?” She waited for a response, but got none, just a slight turn of the regal head she had sketched endlessly over the years. “Lexa, it worked! You’re mine for tonight!”

Still, Lexa said nothing. Clarke shook her head, taking a step towards her, but stopped herself just in time; she’d learnt that time when she saw Bellamy that trying to embrace them only made the apparitions disappear; they were nothing but air and imagination, and to try and cross that boundary was to lose them forever. “Oh come on, you’ve got to be more talkative than that.” Lexa only licked her lips, as if trying to find what she was trying to say. Clarke couldn’t wait; their time was limited. “Tell you what, let’s go down to the beach. It’s always the best place to hang out with you phantoms.” 

Determined, she marched past Lexa, trying to keep her strides straight as she walked through fields of cotton candy, which is what the ground had become. Was Lexa following her? She always walked so stealthily, and that hadn’t changed now that she was an actual ghost. But she’d better check she was still there. Clarke turned on her heel abruptly, the motion making her already woozy world spin out of control; off kilter and before she could stop herself, she fell forward; to her horror, it was straight for Lexa; she closed her eyes. _No,_ _no, no_ , she couldn’t lose her just yet; but there was nothing to do, was there? She braced for the impact of both the loss and the fall; to her utter shock, she connected with what felt like a familiar, solid, human-feeling _body_. Involuntarily, she held on tight; to the feeling, but even tighter, to Lexa, her cheek resting on her shoulder. Then, it hit her; Lexa wasn’t like the other illusions; she was _still here_. And Clarke could feel her, all of her. She grasped tightly onto Lexa’s coat, the same leather and fur she remembered; the buckles, all the buckles, still poking into her as they always did, driving her wild, as they always had. Her heart thumping, her head spinning, she raised her trembling hands to Lexa’s face; it was warm under her touch. “Lexa. Lexa, what’s happening? Are you real?”

The delusion - because that’s what she really was, wasn’t she - only smiled that soft smile Clarke had craved for eternity, this time a little absently. “Yes, I am.” A curious expression in her eyes, she spoke again. “But, why do you call me ‘Lexa’?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, it's all going to sort itself out in the end. :)
> 
> Also, you know how sometimes I'll leave a note about a song that inspired me/that I listened to while writing a particular chapter? Well, for this one, there was literally only a single one that fit: King Princess' [Talia](https://youtu.be/t7euFoiA-o4).


	4. Free(dom) Day

“The first question is about love. So few species are given this gift. Yet you have attempted to erase it in pursuit of this moment.” The Being Dressed as Callie’s eyes bored into him. “Why?”

Cadogan gulped, not sure where to begin. He had traversed the ends of the Earth, survived a nuclear apocalypse, established a new civilisation on an alien planet, spent countless hours studying the Anomaly Stone, and finally, caused Madi’s unfortunate demise, all in pursuit of this one moment. But for all his manic cramming for this test, he had no idea where to begin with the answer. And the Being’s stoic familiarity as it wore Callie’s face was putting him on edge; he wouldn’t be cheating his way out of this one, he knew that already. Raising his eyes to the Being’s face, he opened his mouth to speak. And that was the last thing he would ever do.

A resounding crack burst throughout the Chamber of Transcendence. Even as the Being’s face was splattered with a spray of blood, Cadogan crumpled to the ground, a gunshot wound in the middle of his forehead rapidly pooling blood on the floor. The Being watched in silence as a young woman, revolver in one outstretched hand, walked towards Cadogan, sinking three more bullets into him, her expression taut with fury. When she had emptied the magazine into the corpse, she turned her attention to the Being. “Pencils down,” she growled, a menacing glint in her eyes.

The Being watched her, a hint of amusement in their eyes. Humans’ flair for drama was always one of their favourite things to look out for when observing this race. They snorted, raising the corner of Callie’s mouth in her trademark smirk. “I’m afraid that’s impossible.” They watched Clarke’s jaw clench even more as her anger grew. “The test cannot be stopped once it has been set in motion. Your Judge will be here shortly.” The Being turned to leave, gingerly stepping over the puddle that was now the only sign of Cadogan’s former existence.

“Wait.” Clarke called after them. “I didn’t start the test, though. So why do I have to finish it?”

The Being paused; was this a human attempting to speak in logic? It was intriguing. “Well, Cadogan made his choice; but you didn’t give him the chance to proceed; so now you must take his place.”

“He killed my daughter; he took her choice away, too. I only gave him as much as he deserved.”

“An eye for an eye.” The Being turned. “That is for your Judge to rule on.” Callie’s face was pensive; the Being tapped their foot; this human did have a rational point, however. “I suppose you did level the playing field. Hmm. Very well. What do you propose?”

Clarke tucked the handgun into the back of her jeans. “I want to have my choice, too. I want to start at the beginning.”

The Being nodded; the Universal Consciousness stressed equal treatment for all, unless anything to the contrary was for the betterment of all. “It is done.” Callie raised an eyebrow before repeating the same words they had uttered mere minutes before. “Tell me, Clarke, is the human race now ready to join us?”

Clarke took a deep breath, buying herself some time. The answer was clear as day; she just needed to say it out loud. “No. We’re not interested.”

Callie’s smirk faltered. “Excuse me?” They clasped their hands behind their back, beginning a slow, haughty pacing back and forth. “Do you not understand what transcendence is? A higher state of being, an evolutionary leap that all species in the entire universe hold as the ultimate goal? This is your chance to have the  _ entire  _ human race transcend.”

Clarke shook her head, crossing her arms. “Like I said, thanks, but no thanks. We like it over here.”

The Being stared at her; this was not going according to plan at all. “And why is that exactly? All you do is fight and kill each other, and destroy everything in your path.” The Being watched Clarke purse her lips; they had hit a sore spot.

“Maybe. But we have been trying to do better. We just need more time; I know we’ll get it right.”

Clarke watched the Being; they really weren’t as impassive as they were trying to be. Interesting. “Besides, we humans prize individuality. It makes us unique.”

The Being felt a prick of annoyance at Clarke’s direct dig; this was troubling; they would have to work harder on their Aloofness lessons. “And what makes you think your pronouncement defines the entire human race?”

Clarke laughed, tucking her hands in the back pockets of her jeans; this was too easy. “You were prepared to let your judgment do just that like, a minute ago. Why should my decision be any different?”

Callie’s nostrils flared slightly; this human was tough. “Yes, but I am already transcended. My judgement comes with a prize, or a price. Who are you to carry the weight of turning down infinity?”

Clarke squared her shoulders; this was familiar territory to her. “Me? I’m no one special, really. But sometimes when they’re feeling affectionate, my people call me Wanheda.” 

The Being raised Callie’s eyebrows. “The Commander of Death. Yes, we know of you. But why do you choose not to end the misery of humans today?”

Clarke eyed the Being for a moment; she was done with this. Her decision wasn’t going to change, and she just wanted to be back among her people and face whatever it was that was coming next. Together. “Because today, I choose life. Can you understand that?” 

The only sound in the Chamber for a few long moments was the soft swooshing of shooting stars as they whizzed past. Callie’s face was impassive. When they spoke finally, it was curt, yet soft. “Very well. Humanity has spoken today, through Wanheda.” They waved a hand in towards the back of the Chamber. “You are free to return to your people.”

Clarke nodded. “Thanks for your time.” Turning around, she muttered under her breath. “Or whatever.” 

Before she could take a step further, she felt herself falling through the air, until she landed, crouching on the crunchy grass of Bardo, right beside Octavia, right in the middle of the Last War. She stood up, disoriented. She was surrounded by hundreds of people on both sides; Wonkru, the Eligius Prisoners and the Disciples, and….they were all unarmed. She looked around; every weapon in sight rested on the ground, including Octavia’s own sword. 

“What’s going on?” She asked Octavia, whose eyes were shining with tears; she had a relieved smile on her face. 

“Peace.” Octavia shrugged. “This is what peace looks like, Clarke.” She grabbed Clarke in a bearhug as the entire open field erupted in cheers, whistles and claps. As Clarke hugged her back, she thought she liked the sound an awful lot better than gunshots.

“Clarke!” Levitt’s voice rang through the chaos. He was waving her over frantically, pointing to the room where she had seen Madi last. “I have to show you something!”

She hurried over, with Octavia close behind; as they approached the doorway, Clarke braced herself for the sight once more; Octavia rested a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it. As the door parted, she stepped in.

Raven stood next to Madi, a wide grin on her face. “Look, Clarke.” She pointed to Madi’s face; her eyes were closed. As Clarke watched in amazement, her face twitched into a smile, like she was having a good dream. Her feet moved involuntarily, as if trying to help her turn over, but the effort seemed too much; she settled back into the chair once more. Clarke reached a hand out to gently stroke her forehead; Raven had wiped the blood off it. “She’s sleeping.” Clarke looked at her, confused, not daring to hope. 

Levitt walked over to them, his expression excited even as he watched Clarke, carefully. “Well, it’s going to take a few months to have her movement back to 100%, but yeah, we did it, Clarke.” He beamed at her. “We reversed the paralysis.”

Clarke clasped a hand to her mouth in disbelief, her eyes welling up with tears, trying to contain herself. “What? How?” She asked finally.

Levitt pointed at Raven. “It was Raven’s idea, actually. We basically did a hard reset of Madi’s cerebellum and frontal lobe. With some therapy, she’ll be back to coordinating her movements beautifully in no time.”

Raven thumped him on the back. “But this guy did all the work. Well, the good old CTRL + ALT + DEL part, anyway.” She grinned at Clarke, pride written all over her face. “We got our Madi back, Clarke.”

Clarke could only nod wordlessly as she threw herself at them both, enveloping them in a tight hug. “Thank you, thank you, _thank you_. Thank you so much.” 

She was joined by Octavia a second later, jumping onto them; losing their balance, they all ended up on the floor, a cuddle pile of limbs and laughter and ecstatic tears. 

When she could, Clarke sat up, resting backwards on her hands, catching her breath. “The ground, that’s the dream.” She looked around at the others. “What now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I know. Canon? What canon? Also, WHAT IS HAPPENING?!?!
> 
> I'm just saying, sometimes you've got to swing to the other extreme to end up in the middle, yeah? Come yell at me in the comments if you want. ;)


	5. Freedom Day II

The Producer was having a hard time glowing at his full capacity; the edges of his aura currently leaned more towards the pasty lemon rather than the burnished end of the gold spectrum. The time he spent under the light harvesters usually ensured it was meticulously groomed and tended to. Sometimes however, the best laid attempts could knock it askew, or even perhaps, the worst news.

“Again? They turned us down _again_?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “How is that possible?” He looked up at B9558, impassive as ever, hands clasped to their front. “Why did you let her go back to the beginning?”

B9558 ran their tongue over the front of their teeth; this was the third time they had gone over this line of questioning. “Like I said, the human...Clarke, made a compelling argument. I could not fault her reasoning. Nor her rationale.” B9558 shrugged. “I don’t understand; wasn’t I being fair? Isn’t that what the Universal Consciousness teaches us?”

The Producer puffed his cheeks out; he needed to be careful about this. “Yes, of course, that was absolutely the correct course of action to take.” He began drumming his fingers on the tabletop; B9558 had no idea what the whole picture looked like, and he preferred it to stay that way. Slipping into his mask of indifference, he waved his hand nonchalantly. “No matter. I suspect they will realize the error of their ways soon enough.” 

B9558 nodded slowly. “Precisely my thinking. As I left them, they were preparing to massacre the remnants of their species in a _war over peace._ ” They tried out their newfound smirk; they had rather taken to Callie’s preferred expression; it had been worth adopting. “They know the code to summon us; I hazard a guess they will be in contact soon enough.” With a nod of their head, The Being Formerly Dressed as Callie turned to leave. “When they do, rest assured, we won’t be lenient in their testing. I give them a month.”

The Producer nodded reluctantly; the last time a human had refused transcendence, it had taken about three hundred years for the race to cave again. For whatever it was worth, Clarke’s attitude seemed quite different from Becca’s. Wanheda’s flippancy had seemed the exact opposite of Pramheda's humble awe. He picked at his lower lip thoughtfully. Maybe B9558 was right; it was just a waiting game, only a matter of time.

12 months, 28 days, 21 hours, 4 minutes and 26 seconds later, it was The Producer who caved. He had just finished listening to B3978’s latest Briefing on New Earth, and it sounded like it was going just swimmingly. He waited for the Being to leave; then he slammed his fist down on his desk, instantly regretting it; a sharp pain shot through it. Like almost every Being, his hands were notoriously soft; transcendence didn’t require much by way of manual labour. Shaking the pain out, he sent an irritable telepathic message into the ether of the Consciousness. Within seconds, a reddish-gold flash signalled B9558’s appearance. “You….rang?” 

“What?” The Producer looked up, peeved. “No, I didn’t. I sent you a telepathagram.”

Not to be deterred, B9558 tried again. “Fine. You….gargled?”

The Producer’s eyebrows furrowed together. “What’s gotten into you?”

B9558 sighed; so this is how it was going to be today. “Nothing, I chanced on some Old Human recordings in my studies. These were methods of greetings when one was summoned, apparently.” Seeing The Producer’s frown deepen, they backed down. “No matter. How may I be of assistance?”

“Well, since you’re the expert on humans now,” The Producer paused; it wouldn’t do to appear out of control. When he spoke again, his face had settled into neutrality, the frown lines clearing up with practiced smoothness. “They’re thriving on New Earth. It’s mystifying.”

“So I’ve seen.” B9558 nodded. “What would you have me do about it?”

The Producer’s expression was pensive. “If they won’t come to us, then we will go to them.”

B9558’s raised their eyebrows. “Like a spy? I suppose it would be easy. Though that might be frowned upon…..”

The Producer shook his head. “No, they would sniff us out in moments. We lack their unstable temperaments.” He rubbed his chin, thoughtfully. “What we need is an envoy; someone who will observe, and report back. Someone they will trust, but someone who also understands us.” 

B9558 saw the gleam in his eyes the moment they came to the same inevitable conclusion. Of course. He _would_ pick _her._ They watched as the Producer shot out of his seat, practically knocking his chair backwards; it certainly seemed like he was having a difficult time with self mastery today. 

A few seconds later, with a quick “You are dismissed,” The Producer had apparated away. B9558 only shook their head; humans, whether one or many, whether transcended or not, were best watched from afar; their partiality to emotions led to nothing but trouble.

******

Arriving at his destination, the Producer took a moment to recompose himself, aura and all. He needed this to work. Adjusting the front of his robes, he picked a stray golden thread off his sleeve; separated from its cloth, it evaporated into thin air instantly, leaving behind a wisp of smoke in its wake. Taking a deep breath, The Producer knocked on the door before it sprang open. Stepping inside, he took in the scene. The woman stood by the back of the vast room, to the centre of the transparent wall, looking out into eternity sombrely; today it resembled a canvas of monochromatic greyishblue. Without turning her head, she spoke softly. “Producer.”

The Producer cleared his throat. “B1.6. How many times must I ask you to call me by my preferred name?” He gave the back of her head a watery smile.

The woman only raised her chin up and outwards, clasping her hands behind her back. “Yes, of course.” She turned her head sideways, as the Producer walked up beside her. “Jason. What brings you here?”

Jason smiled; he did enjoy being addressed that way; it was his act of rebellion, and less of a name and more of a title, at least in his own mind. He already felt better. He turned his gaze to the eternal vastness outside. “It never gets old, does it?”

B1.6 raised an eyebrow. “You’d be surprised.” She said simply.

Jason cleared his throat. “Yes, well.” He puffed his chest out. “I was wondering….” he trailed off as the woman trained her eyes on him; the intensity in them never failed to make him feel a little smaller every time. But this was important; he pushed on. “If you’d be interested in taking a trip.”

She looked surprised. “What happened to needing me here for strategy?”

Jason dropped his gaze to the floor. “Oh, well, there’s nothing of consequence on the horizon for a few months. We’ll manage. Besides, you seem like you need a change of scene.”

B1.6 turned to face him, then. “What do you _really_ want, Jason? Could you just say it, please?”

Jason nodded hurriedly; he’d learnt quickly that she didn’t tolerate hesitation or weakness lightly. “Would you like to visit New Earth as an envoy of the Beings?”

Not a muscle moved in B1.6’s face, but her eyes seemed to be staring straight through him. “Why? I thought we humans were a write off.”

Jason shuffled his feet. “Yes, well, that’s the thing. It’s the opposite. They’re thriving down there.”

“And you want to know why.” B1.6 had a strange look on her face. “Maybe it’s time you stop underestimating them.”

“Ah, um, yes, that’s the thing. We just don’t know enough about New Earth. And we’d like to, but as you know, they’ve turned down joining us.”

“Twice.”

“Twice.” He felt a pinprick somewhere inside, admitting that.

“How long for? And what do you want me to do?”

Jason exhaled; it looked like he was in the clear. “Get to know them. Once you do, you could maybe, you know, talk us up a little? And also this whole transcendence thing?”

B1.6 sighed. “And why am I the lucky one? Because I’m human, too?”

Jason nodded. “And you know the ways of the Beings, as well. We’re not so bad, are we?”

That earned him a hint of a smile. “Depends on who’s asking, and the kind of day I’m having.” She turned away, then, a pensive look on her face. “Okay. I’ll do it. What else do I need to know?”

“Thank you.” Jason’s grin was more than a little tinged with relief. “Nothing that I can think of. If something comes up, I’ll let you know.” He nodded, turning to leave. B1.6 watched him impassively; once outside, when the door had whooshed shut, he let his shoulders droop, feeling the tension seep out of them. Telling Lexa kom Trikru anything more could jeopardize the plan. And if she hadn’t found her memories in almost two centuries of trying with the Beings’ help, there was no danger of her doing that in a civilization that was positively rudimentary, even if it was her own in some distant way. Lexa’s mind had been completely and irretrievably wiped clean of the past the day she had been reborn in transcendence. There was absolutely no fear of anything on New Earth changing that; Jason was as certain of that as his belief in the Beings themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Curiouser and curiouser, huh? And yes, I went there... :D (I aced Advanced Potions at Hogwarts...I was Snape's other favourite student; in Muggledom, I believe the class is called Shitstirring 501) ;)
> 
> Okay, so heads up, I need some time to scheme, plot and plan the rest of this story to bring out its full madcap potential.....so no daily updates, but one very soon. 
> 
> Also, Trivia 2: another vintage horror reference in here. Anyone? I’m looking for the specific rendition/version (since there are a bunch of remakes). :)
> 
> Thanks, everyone for leaving so many comments; I haven't gotten to them yet, but I'll read and respond to each and every one, like I always do, so please, drop me a line if you want, I enjoy reading them all!


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